Where to Start?
by WhitinCali
Summary: Sequel to A New Beginning. Holland has survived the Rebel Games, and her life continues on. But secrets are revealed, obstacles are thrown in her way, and she has become a lost soul to everyone around her. How will she manage to move forward?
1. Prologue

**Hey guys! The sequel is here. DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU HAVE NOT READ THE FIRST STORY, A New Beginning. Anyway, it's short, I know, and quite confusing. You will be filled in later on.**

**Disclaimer: The Hunger Games is not mine.**

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The crisp autumn air bit my nose, and I trudged on through the crunching leaves, staring down at my feet, thinking of all the things that have happened. It's truly intersecting to find yourself dead to the world, as if when people look at you, they're really looking through you. I was nothing to people, just a lost spirit searching my way through this discriminating life I am forced to live through. It's not often to become in this state, but I seem to be trapped. Invisible tape covering my mouth, my mind frozen solid.

I am Holland Katniss Hawthorne, the daughter of Madge Undersee and Gale Hawthorne, I am sixteen years old, I am a hunter and fighter, I fell in love with the famous Tax Mellark, I was sent into the Rebel Games, I survived, and now I am labeled 'mentally unstable'.

I glance up during my walk through the wilderness, trying to manage to get myself lost, but I've been doing this for two months now, I have roamed every single in of this forest, I know exactly where I am. But I must go farther, I must get lost. I continue on my journey. And my mind decides to go elsewhere.

"_Are you okay, sweetheart, would you like me to stay, or…?" Lyssa asks sitting propped up on my fluffy bed back in the Training Center apartment. I shake my head, gazing out at Capitol, the glorious colorful city, only in my white satin robe. Tears flow steadily down my cheeks, and I try to let the news sink in. I couldn't though. It was hard. All this time, all the time we spent together, and it comes crumbling down. I mean, reality does that right? When you finally exit your wonders and fantasies, a whole other world that does not exist, and the perpetuating, uninvited truth comes out. It feels as if you are being stabbed in the back. _

_My eyes drift shut, and I slide down the wall I was leaning on, as I hit the ground, lay my legs out, and begin sobbing. How could this happen? How could I have not known? It was obvious. It was all so obvious. The fury I have inside of me grows larger. This is my fault. I should have never done that. _

_I let out all of my anger, by smashing a large whole in the purple walls. Then I stumble to my feet, and make my way around the room, as I begin to rip, tear, shred, throw, chuck, hurl objects around the room. I can't take it anymore. I just cant. _

_With high emotions running, I run into the wall, repeatedly beating my head against it. After only several hits, I knock myself unconscious. _

Shivers run through my body, and I slip my frost bitten fingers under my longer, blonde bangs, lightly touching the scar from that moment.

The memories come back to me, the fresh deaths still on my mind. I let them all die on my account. How stupid I feel from it.

As I continue on my walk, I now begin to realize, that I have successfully lost myself. I keep moving, almost running, my long brown coat flying behind me, my dark boots scuffing the surface, my long, now dirty blonde curls bouncing around my face. I can feel it, something is just past this, through these enormous trees and blasted bushes.

I stop just before the opening, and crouch down behind the bushes. Already I feel as if I am back in the Rebel Games, right before the finale. The fire scorching my skin. After the games, when I was taken up into the hovercraft, they said I had lost three inches of my hair, now it's trying to grow back out, reaching just past my shoulders. I eye my surroundings, and off in the distance, I could see it's glistening glory, of a vast pond, or a small lake. Not to far from it is a fishing house.

Time to adventure.

I take small, baby steps, stalking my way across the opening, constantly checking my scenery. I can't risk the chance of being caught. Even if I am a victor, I am being watched like a hawk, no one can let me out of their sight. The woods are all I have, but ever since the rise of President Lebeaux, the whole district has been in lock down. From hundreds of Peacekeepers to electrifying the fence.

I stride to the fishing house, and upon closer examination, I could see a single strand of dwindling smoke peek out from the roof. Someone is present. I suck in a deep breath, and notch my bow, approaching the house only on my toes, remaining quite. How a hunter kills it's prey. The wooden door is ajar, and I peep an eye inside. All I could see and hear is a cackling fire. Maybe someone left it here, it appeared to be dying anyway.

I turn around, not wanting to bother with the person. I silently walk away, towards the lake, to research it more.

Snap, snap, crack.

I twist myself around. I rush back to the door, and can see the shadow of something moving. Again I could hear the same sounds, the sounds of someone breaking twigs and branches. I push open the door, and pop my head inside.

I lose my breath from the way his stern gray eyes hold onto mine.

We stand there, for the first time in what seems like ever, I watch him distinctly. And he watches me. We hold down a staring contest. Neither speaking, because everything has been spoken.

Finally after countless minutes of torturous silence, he breaks it.

"Who are you?"

My heart sinks and I run out the door, and away from here, away from the forest, away from all of those memories.

Tax can't even remember me.

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**Oh no! Review. I want to know how you like the new story. Be happy Tax is back at least. **


	2. The Funeral

"On this day, we remember a lost soul who found the light." If only they were talking about me. It would have made more sense. I'm a poor lost soul, wandering around, trying to find their way to the light. I wish I was dead, gone for good. Or in the same condition as Tax, to forget me. He has completely lost all memory of me. He does remember being in the games, just not me. At all.

"A strong woman she was, who fought for the lives of others. She was an icon to all." Such a pity she died, I could have sworn he had said it, yet in my voice.

My eyes wander around me, gazing upon every stricken, hard, grim face. All of the truth that lies on their tongues they wish they could have said. But it was never spoken. I could pick out everyone by now. I know almost everyone in District 12. From the dirt covered faces of Seam citizens to the sparkling Merchants. Although none of which live near me. I decided to give up my Victor's Village home, and our new remodeled home for a little cottage, far out behind the square and the rest of the district.

I live alone.

No dad, no Posy, nobody stays with me.

Why?

"_Ms. Hawthorne, do you mind following me?" I obeyed the man in the dark suit, stalking out behind him from the main party in the President's house. He lead me out into a car as dark as his suit, where we rode for about ten minutes to a deserted building. Bars. Lots of bars are what made up the building, and with further examination, I discovered it to be a jail. _

"_Why did you bring me here?" The man only nodded forward, as he jabbed a gun behind my back. I slowly raised my hands, and trudged on towards the jail, my eyes fluttering from each cell, my heart gaining speed, my throat growing dry. _

"_Open the door, and go to the third cell to the right." My shaking hand rattled the metal door knob, and a loud creek rung out as the door pushed open. I did as he instructed, moving in a snail's pace to the cell. _

"_So what?" I asked softly to the man. He stuck the gun into my back harder, telling me to move forward to the cell. I hook my hands around the bars, and a shadow squirms, before their face is inches from mine. I jump backwards from surprise, and rush back to the bars, as I hold my scruffy looking father in my arms. He's bloody, and frail looking. _

"_Papa! Papa what happened?" His eyes shift from me to the man and back to me. _

"_Holland, sweetie-" It's bad news. So I prepare myself for the worst. _

"Hazelle Hawthorne will be remembered by her friends, family, and peers. In her honor we bury her today through her great integrity. Would anyone like to say a last few words." I watched as they just buried her into the ground, no casket, they don't cremate her, they just bury her limp body.

People spent so long just rambling about nonsense memories about her. It started with her friends, then her family. It wasn't long before my turn came. I could feel a hand settle on my shoulder, and I gaze up at the man holding the ceremonial burial. "Holland, would you like to say anything about your grandmother?"

And after now three and a half months, I spoke my first sentence. A heart wrenching, horrifying gathering of words. "Yes, Hazelle Hawthorne and the family she had started has ruined my life. I don't even know any of them anymore."

People gasp, with brows furrowed, eyes narrowed, they stare upon me with disgust. And I picked him out, Tax, as his red rimmed eyes hold onto mine. He has no clue who I am, and I have a history of him, and now I have set my first impression on him, ruthless.

I take one, then two steps back, before I shove my way through the crowd of people and make my way to the woods, away from my life in District 12. It's something out of the ordinary for me, to speak the truth. I remember what I had said to Dayton, to Pimi, about this world of lies. I feel like it's true, all of it. If you cant bet the liars, join them.

My shoes manage to peel off my feet on my mission to a specific destination, and soon enough the cool sand covers my toes, stick to the bare skin. I'm gagging on my tears, choking in sorrow and misery. All that I had, gone, taken from me. He should be happy, to ruin yet another person's life.

I glance down at the gleaming silver pin my father gave me, as I rip it off my black clothing, bringing my arm back, about to throw it into the lake.

"I would think twice before doing that."

My head swivels around, and there stands someone I least expected. With her hair out, in long dark curls, her blue eyes gleaming a beautiful like her father's, instead of hiding behind her square glasses. "Ivy?" I ask in my stumped speech.

"I know that it's hard for you. My mother told me what had happened. You don't deserve that but-"

"I don't need you, or this!" I scream at her.

"Listen to me now!" She shouts back with as much ice in her voice, if not more. I am struck shocked once again, and she composes herself before continuing on. "Like I said, you don't deserve that, but to just turn on them all, to throw away what your whole family has given you, that's just not right."

"How would you know? You only have your parents and your brother. I had six cousins to be with, three aunts and three uncles, even a grandmother. Do you know how hard it is when you learn they aren't even related to you?"

"No I don't, but-"

"Just leave." I hiss at her.

She takes in a sharp breath, and turns around, heading back, but she stops, gives me a quick glance and says softly, "What you did today, it reminded Tax of something about you."

"And what's that?" I breathlessly say back.

"He remembered the first time he met you. He says you changed since then. I saw no difference." We stand there quietly, me fiddling with the pin, her staring down at her shoes. Soon I fill the emptiness.

"Well you didn't know me like he did."

"Maybe I didn't, but now we have the same bit of knowledge about you. You need help." She begins to leave back into the forest, but I let out one last sentence.

"Then help me."

She stops, cranes her head around and smiles slightly. "Meet me here tomorrow afternoon." How should I trust her about this? I don't. But I cant bring myself to decline the offer.

So I nod softly. "Okay." I mumble, and she leaves, this time knowing that I'm not a complete nut case, but just a girl who needs a little push back into the real world.

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**From now on I am not going to do any off notes. Just assume that if I don't post for a long while, something important has come up. I have a life too. Thank you for those who patiently wait for my stories to be updated.**


	3. The Memories

It had been days, weeks, I believe even a month, and slowly and painfully I found my life to be set back into motion. I could honestly say I was almost normal. But I was still known around as a bit 'on edge'. No one gave me grief, they only empathized my position and stayed silent. And that made my life a little easier.

But what truly brought me back to who I was was Ivy. That day, the day of Hazelle's funeral, when she offered to help me, things began to change. My emaciated figured filled back out after she sent Sae to come check on me everyday and feed me. My eyes, which were sunken in from sleep deprivation, became the beautiful hazel orbs they use to be after Shay came to check on me every night and tuck me in. And I got back into shape after Ivy sacrificed her social life to hunt and hang with me. To watch over me.

All along she was the one who brought back the real Holland.

There were days during the process I had suicidal thoughts, where all I wanted to do was stick an arrow through my chest, but she was always there to guide me through my problems.

As I walked outside of my house, I heard a crumpling sound from underneath my feet. Upon inspection, I found to my surprise a white envelope, my name printed on the front. As I sliced it open, a folded letter dropped out, and after unraveling it, all I wanted to do was die.

**Dear Ms. Hawthorne,**

**You are cordially invited to President Lebeaux's evening party on December 28. There will be many special guests anticipating your arrival, and we find that it will boost your fame. And you surely will be in for a, in your case, an exhilarating surprise. Please do get back as soon as possible.**

**-The Capitol.**

What only made this letter worse was that it was printed in my father's handwriting. I saw smudges on the bottom of the letter, scarlet little dots. Tears soaked my face, as they filled over the paper and i saw in what looked to be lightly erased wording,

_**Holland, I am so sorry about all of this. What happened back in the Capitol. I want to be there for your birthday, I just want to be there for you. Even if I am not your father. I spent sixteen years of my life raising you. **_

Let me explain.

"_Holland, sweetie-" My father began, but lost his wording. He found his speech, took in a deep breath, and continued. "Holland, when you were in the games, well right before you were sent into the arena, I caught Sebastian with another woman. I beat him to death." The words hung over my head, but never sunk in. Death? He killed my uncle? "The body was so mangled, the Peacekeepers took in me, Rory and Vick for investigation. Posy was then taken to District 4, as she was due for labor, but to also live with Katniss's mother. They arrested me after I came clean, and was sentenced to death. My hanging will be public. I-I-" He was sobbing at this point. He had hit rock bottom. And at that moment I thought I had lost all respect for him. Until he said this. "When I was forced to come to the live audience of your games, they had to do a DNA testing to make sure I was blood related. Holland, sweetie-" Again, it was bad news, so bad I was frozen, I couldn't not listen to him. "I'm not your real father." And all of my respect for him flew out the door. Why should I care about him? Why should I care about anyone in that family anymore. _

"_Who is then?" I whispered in an icy tone._

"_His name is Batten, Batten Gorgen." _

_I put the puzzle pieces together._

I crumpled up the paper, tossing it to the ground, and sprinted to the woods, I slid under the fence, and practically flew to the lake. As I ran there I cried, my vision impairing, and I relied on my other senses to take me there.

When I had hit the sand I screamed out, grabbing myself and weeping with not a care if anyone is around. All this time. All this time I knew the man, but never did I once realize he was my father. My biological father.

And it was my mother who I framed as a slut. A god forsaken whore. Until I got down to the bottom of it, and tracked him down.

"Holland?" I glanced up, as Ivy rushed to my side, cradling me in her arms.

"They want me to go to the Capitol. They want me to go to the president's party. They are going to kill him!" I choked on my sentences, and Ivy tried to figure out what I was saying, but came up confused.

"What do you mean?"

"They're going to kill him, Gale, right there, at the party. He wrote the letter to me. He said so. He's not my father! He's not my dad!" I screamed in her face.

She calmed me, and made me explain it all, from the moment I talked with Gale at his cell to when I received the letter. She watched me patiently, listening intently, and asserting the problems properly. And she did this all as an act of kindness. Not because she was forced to, but because she wanted to.

"Who is your real father?" She asked after what was about an hour long of a story.

"His name is Batten Gorgen. He was my mother's pharmacist." I couldn't say more, it was one of the most repulsive things I have ever heard about. I view my childhood as a lie, my parents as strangers, and my family as fools. This is one of the reasons I am a lonesome ghost.

"Do you want to tell me what happened?" Ivy put a hand on my back, and I gazed out at the glistening lake, the wind pushing small waves across the large pond. How the light winter sun reflects on the water, and I know how freezing it is, so close to freezing.

"I went to go make sure all of this story was true, and not just the President pulling on my leg. I took a train to District 2, and located him. He looked at me as if I was just another customer.

'_Can I help you?' He asked so innocently._

'_You are Batten Gorgen right?' How could he not remember me?_

'_Oh yes I am, you look quite familiar, do I know you?'_

'_You knew my mother quite well, Madge Undersee, yes?'_

_His face contorts, such a terrible acting job he was giving, but realization hits him, and he smiles sympathetically, as he pushes his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. 'Yes, yes I did, I am so sorry, Holland, she was a great woman.' _

'_Tell me what happened, both of us know truly what a woman she was. What happened sixteen years ago between you two?' I set it out on the table, I lay my deck of cards, and I know he won't pass. I'm not going to let him._

'_What do you mean-'_

'_Cut the bullshit, Batten.' I slap my hand on the table._

_He lets out a sigh. 'Your mother was in desperate need for her medication. But she just didn't have enough money. I knew she was engaged, I knew she was with Gale, but I had always liked her, I always cherished my time with her, and she was so vulnerable, and I was so naïve. I-I just couldn't pass up the chance, it was only once.'_

'_Did you know I was yours?' I asked. He just ducked his head, I asked the question again, with more aggression. _

'_Yes! Yes I did!' He snapped at me. _

_We stared at each other for quite a while, then I just spit on him and said 'Fuck you' because I didn't need to know anymore. _

I was told a while later he grew delusional and murdered his wife and two kids. Then himself. I should feel pity, I should feel so sorry for the whole crime, but-but I just cant!" I began to cry, to sob out loud.

Ivy rubbed my back, and I felt bad for bringing her into my distorted life.

"So it comes down to this; my biological father is dead, my biological mother is dead, my other father is going to die, and my family is no longer family, but now strangers, and the person who really cared, the person who really even gave a damn can't even remember me. Welcome to my life, Ivy. You can leave it whenever you want to. Don't let me drag you down from your dreams."

"You're not dragging me anywhere. You need a friend? That's the reason I'm here. You need a family? Our door is wide open. You need someone who cares? I'm listening. You're not alone, Holland."

I lean against her shoulder, and wipe my tears, as we sit in silence gazing as the sun sets slowly. The wind picks up, as our hair flies along with it, and I relax, I feel almost normal, and I know nothing could ruin this.

"Ivy?"

We both turn our heads, and there he stands, again, those gray eyes hold a stern gaze on me. He has already seen my first impression. He has branded me as harsh, cruel, and an enemy.

"Tax, I said I was going to meet you at the oak-"

"I couldn't wait. I have be home soon anyway, I'm going to meet up with Whit and Cole."

Ivy glances at me, and then leans forward, whispering to me "Talk to him." I take a deep breath and gaze back to him.

"Tax." I just say his name, and nothing else.

"What?" He asks a bit rudely.

"I-I…" I lose my words.

"What you did at Hazelle's funeral, that was bullshit."

"Tax!" Ivy yells at him.

"No, let me talk," He takes a few more steps forward. "You are a piece of-" Ivy has her arms clamped around his neck, he kicks and throws his arms around, but finally just gives up.

"Tax, leave now." My eyes are blurry with tears, and I just get up and sprint past them. They both watch as I rush away from them, my blonde curls bouncing, and coats flapping in the wind, my boots crunching the forest leaves. I wish is was gone from here, I wish I had my old life back.

I run all the way to my house, and fling open the door, stumbling over the first step inside, and plummeting inside, only to be caught. As my eyes trail up to my hero, I scream.

"Ms. Hawthorne, that is no way to greet someone." He says, and licks his thin lips, his tongue catching his black swirls of beard. His hazel eyes trained onto mine.

"Lebeaux." I mouth.

"That's President Lebeaux to you sweetie."


	4. The Bad Day

"Why are you here?" He only grinned widely, licking his lips slightly. I grew conscious and covered myself.

"Ms. Hawthorne we have some things to discuss. Shall we begin?" I glanced around at the two tall, strong guards waiting behind him. Lebeaux noticed me glaring at them and ordered them to leave. They did as he commanded. He sat down on my little weaved chair. "Sit." He demanded. I instantly dropped into my own seat. He crossed his legs, leaned back and folded his hands onto his knee. "Did you receive my letter?" I nodded. "Will you be attending?" I wanted to say I had no choice, but I only nod once again. Then I mustered up the courage.

"Why are you doing this?" I ask so weakly.

"Doing what?" He returned, although he knew exactly what I was asking.

"Why do you have to ruin my life? I never did anything wrong!" He only sat there and listened to my plead. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, then reopened his eyes.

"Ms. Hawthorne, you did. Reaping day. You volunteered." He is punishing me because I saved Ivy. All along. I grow angry after realization.

"You did this. Tax cant remember me, and it's because of you!" He smiles.

"Took you long enough. Mr. Mellark and his sister were going to go into the games, they were going to fight for their lives. And you ruined my plans. So I will in return ruin yours. You will be going to the Capitol for my party, you will convince me that you and Mr. Mellark are truly in love, you will also do me one more thing. I am aware that your mentor had told you?" I think back, I think of all the things Haymitch has told me. And then it hits me.

"No. I cant. I wont."

"Oh you will. You will indeed do so for me. I need new jewels, and many customers are already bidding. Congratulations, Ms. Hawthorne, you are now known as the most beautiful girl in all of Panem." I watched him. A sex slave. I was going to become a sex slave. "You'll become so rich, you can leave this dump, buy and make a house that is as large as mine. Live in a life of luxury, I mean, you did earn it. You just have to work a little more to finish off the debt you left for me." He leaned forward, and I stood up, trying to back away from him, but he was already towering over me, taking my wrists in his grip. "You will need a little experience though." And with that, it seemed to invite him to invade my space, as his lips were all over mine. I tried to kick him, but he only crushed my feet with his.

He backed me up, and smashed me against a wall, holding my wrists over my head. I tried to break free, but he snaked a hand down and took my jaw in his strong grip, making me face him. "Don't make this hard, you'll only get more hurt." I screamed. He slammed me against the wall. I only screamed again. "Fine. You might be hard to break, but you will do as you are told next time."

The president left me broken. I didn't know what to do anymore, but keep my mouth shut, and my eyes open.

Ivy couldn't even know about this. So I just decided to get dressed, and take a walk. When peopled passed by me, they waved, said 'hi' or smiled. I just kept moving. This time I wasn't going to get lost. I was going to the place I needed to go. So I reach Victor's Village, throw open the door, stomp inside the house, and slam one of the many bottles of liquor onto the floor.

"What now Cupcake?" Haymitch doesn't even seemed fazed.

"You bastard! You conceded bastard! He- he…" I began to choke up. Haymitch stepped around his broken bottle and tried to make his way to me, but I threw a plate towards him, purposely missing him. "He's selling me!"

"Who is?" He approached me again, and this time I let him, as he folded his arms around me.

"Lebeaux. All because I volunteered, he is ruining my life. I should just kill myself." I gave up. I have given up, but this time I have the courage to actually kill myself.

"And what good will that do you? He will still rule the world."

There is a knock on the door, and it is opened slightly, as Tax walks in. I turn to face him, and he glares at me, then at Haymitch.

"I heard a slam." I wiped my tears.

"Sorry, I was uh… I dropped some things." His eyes shifted through the scene and he stepped inside more. He set down something on the table, and I saw an earring. What was he doing with that?

"Are you sure?" Haymitch just told him to ignore it, and Tax shrugged. He asked Haymitch if he had any rubbing alcohol he could borrow. That's hilarious, alcohol that Haymitch cant drink.

"Sorry kid." Tax bit his lower lip, and I spoke to fast.

"I have some! I-I mean…I do have some. What do you need it for?" His cold gray eyes held onto mine.

"Things." I decided not to ask anymore. He seemed to be on last resort, so he decided to come along with me to my house and get it. It was a long moment of silence, and on our journey, all of our memories flashes by in my mind. The kiss on the Chariot, when he sang to me, when he admitted he loved me, and that night, oh god that night on the train, when we spent the night together, and he promised me he would never leave me. Everything we had is gone, and it's all because of Lebeaux. When my fingers are just brushing the thing that I want so badly, and then he yanks it from me. When I see the light at the end of the tunnel, and a train comes and hits me. That is how it feels. So much and its all gone. "I noticed you hair is shorter, did you cut it?" He mumbled.

If only he could remember. They save him for me, but took away all of his memories of me. "Uh…I guess you could say that." I say under my breath. Walking together, it was never this awkward. But I guess were two new people, strangers in each other's eyes. "So uh…do you remember when we were kind of fighting in the woods, and you yanked me from under the fence?" I don't bother to glance at him. And when I glance down at my feet, I realize that now I'm the one walking too fast, and him trying to catch up. That was about four months ago. Now look at us.

"Yeah?"

"Well, my jacket ripped. I still haven't sown it." More silence follows. We keep walking, and my mind wanders on about more things that have happened between us. Our first kiss, when he picked me up after I had fallen. How he had fought for me, and I had fought for him. I always thought it was Dayton that I loved, but now that I realize that Tax no longer knows who I am, I'm lost. You don't realize what you have until it's gone. I always would say that about toilet paper, but now I do really see what that phrase means.

I can see my house rising over the small hill. "You have a long walk to make." He says in an exhausted voice.

"I like it. Sometimes walking for hours is what a person needs. Do get what I'm saying?" He nods, and I slow down, as we walk next to each other. As I slow down for him, our shoulders brush as well as our hands. We both glance down, then at each other. I blush and his eyes automatically leave mine.

We enter inside of my house, and some things have been knocked over after their arrival and disappearance. "What happened?" He asked as his eyes sprinted around the room. I shrug, and he returns his gaze to me.

We stand there in silence, as if he just followed me to my house for no reason.

"I'll just get the…" I trailed off.

"Yeah…" He muttered. So I turned and went to my bathroom, grabbing the bottle, and walking back out, I notice him looking at a picture of my mom and I. She's still almost healthy, and I'm sitting in her lap, about the age of seven. Were both smiling, her smiling that sweet smile that I always tried to get her to make, and me giving a wide, one tooth missing, chubby kid smile. That picture was taken on our trip to District 4. My father had a business trip, so my mom took me along and we hung out by the ocean everyday.

"That was when we went vacationing to District 4." Tax turned around startled. "My father had a business trip, so my mom and I tagged along to hang out on the beach. I was seven." He set the picture back down. I stood there still staring at it. "She was a great woman, my mother. She never hated anyone." I took a deep breath to hold back my tears. There were still minutes of silence. "Well, um, here is your rubbing alcohol." He came across the room and took the bottle. I cringed slightly to his enormous height.

"You okay?" I nodded slowly. "Well, uh, thanks." And with that he headed for the door.

"Tax?" He turned around. I opened my mouth to say something, anything, but I just couldn't. I wanted to tell him everything. Just spill out everything that has happened in the past few months, but the only thing I said was, "You can keep the bottle, I'll get a new one."

He looks like he is going to say something as well, I can see it in his eyes. But all he does is give a small fake smile and nod, as he leaves the house. That's when I slump down into a chair and cry.

"_Sweetie get up." I can feel my mother shaking me awake. But I never more. "Holly come on." Still I don't get up. She checks my pulse, and screams, yelling my father's name. He runs into the room, and checks my pulse. Then he just grabs my mother and holds her tight in his grip._

I wake up, gasping for air, as sweat rolls down my body. It's darker out now, so I decide to go into town and get some things. The walk was long, and my mind seems to replay that damn dream over and over again. When I see it come into view, I notice something weird. Decorations are all over.

Hanging on the buildings, across the street lights. Colors of autumn. I have never seen the district like this before. I enter the flour shop, and smile lightly when I see my some-what-of-a-friend Hope manning the cash register. She bats her hazel eyes, and brushes aside her ashy blonde hair. "Hi!" She grins widely.

"Hey. What's going on out there?" I ask jerking a thumb in the direction of the square.

"It's called the Teresina Festival. We have it every year, in between fall and winter. Like when the snow starts to fall, yet there still is that autumn feeling." I nod, with a questioning eyebrow.

So I go through the evening getting some items, flowers for my dining room that will die in a week and a half, milk that will probably spoil, fruit that rot if I don't eat it all in two days, and four bottles of rubbing alcohol. If some one else needs some. I also bought a bottle of wine, for a night like this. So I can drink away my sorrow.

But my main item was a book of the "History of District 12 After the Rebellion". Yeah that was the name of it. I looked up the Teresina Festival, and discovered a few things.

First, it was created for the fact of the rebirth of the district. The name Teresina comes from a part of a plant, basically a grass stem. The use of the word is that District 12 was the grass stem of the Rebellion. Why did they use this word, I don't know. They could have just said the Stem Festival, but Teresina is fine too. Second, this Festival is to celebrate the beginning and end of the rebellion. They decorate the square, and the moment that flakes begin to drop, the citizens dance their district dance, while a band plays. They then honor the Victors of the Games and Leaders of the Rebellion. The honored people give an optional speech, then there is a moment of dining, and then more dancing. The event goes all day.

I drank about three glasses of wine while reading the book when I hear pounding on my door. "Come in!" I shouted as I continued reading. Ivy busts inside my house, her hair in a messy bun, her glasses slightly crocked, and she is out of breath. In her hand is a brown drawing pad.

"Holland, you have got to see this-" She sees my wine. She just ignores it, as she rushed over and plops down next to me on the couch.

"Did you know about this Tereschmera Festival?" I ask in a slurred voice.

"Never mind that," She throws my book to the side and slams the thick pad in front of me on the table. "Look what I found in the bathroom. It's Tax's." She opens up the pad, and the first thing inside is a picture of me sleeping. Then she turns the page and the next thing is a picture of me looking up smiling. The next page is a picture of me shooting an arrow. She flips through more pages, and each one is of me doing something. And it hits me. These are all things he has seen me do. "And look," She passes a group of pages and this time it is handwriting. Him writing a log of something different about me.

"What does this mean?" I ask, completely sober now.

"He says these are dreams about you."

"But this happened…" She smiles widely.

"Holland," My eyes welt with tears, and a small grin appears on my face, "He still remembers."

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**I actually was going to be a lot darker with this chapter, but I decided against it. Well anyway, hoped you liked it. And be happy that I did this for Tax. **

**Anyways, review, like, alert this. **

**And also let me know about the picture? I know it's hard to see but it is suppose to be Tax and Holland.**


	5. The Surprise

**Hey guys! Whats up? I know, your mad! You're all yelling 'Where's my update!' I'm sorry! Scold Whitney if you will. I was on vacation, and my brother got me into Batman while i was gone. The moment i got my computer back, i began writing a Batman story. But i never forgot you guys! So here is what you've waited for for almost a month!**

**Disclaimer: The Hunger Games isn't mine. Sorry.**

**_I've begun to realize that my writing is cheesy. Well at least i think it is, let me know what you think._**

* * *

For some reason planted in the back of my mind, I actually didn't want to say anything to Tax. Like I wanted us to be strangers. That this separation is, well it is killing me, but it has also lifted a great weight off my shoulders. That those deaths of loved ones were barring down on me.

I threw away the wine bottle immediately after Ivy showed me the book. We went through every picture he drew, and it was all literally me. Every single one. And as we flipped every single page, I came to realize that the pictures were from the best memories to the worst. And as we went further into the pictures, my heart began to break. The worst one was of Dayton and I. I closed the book, and handed it to Ivy.

I get up, pacing the living room, my hand over my mouth. What do I say? What do I do? I don't want to confront him, yet again I do. I love him, but then again I don't. I've never been more conflicted and confused.

"Holland, this is good. This is great. Everything can go back to normal. I mean I love spending time with you, don't take it wrong, but it's just-"

"Ivy." I solemnly interrupt her. I gain her full attention. "I just…I just don't think this will work."

"What do you mean?"

"His reaction can go two different ways. We tell him, and he will actually believe that this is real, but also there is we tell him, and he grows into denial, knowing that it was only a dream. I mean, after you showed me the book, he probably just thinks that it is an act. Even so he already has his first impression set on me."

Ivy took a deep breath, pressed her lips together, and exhaled. "Holland, its bad. We need to do this!"

"Why?"

"He's changed too. He has become darker. He doesn't spend anytime with the family, all he does is just go, go, go. And my parents are worrying about him."

"Well, that isn't too bad. It's probably a phase." I shrug it off.

"Holland, he pierced his ears. He sneaks out late, and sometimes doesn't return till early in the morning. My father waits up so late, that is sometimes causes him to relapse from his hijacking. My mother has no clue to approach him. And lately he met these two kids, that have only caused him to act like a jackass. He comes home with bruises."

I let this all sink in. 'So what' was all I could think. Ivy had one more thing to say, so I listened in. "He thinks that he likes this girl."

"And what do you want to do about this? I mean really, why are you telling me?"

Ivy grins mischievously. This was not going to be good.

Ivy slept over, and Sae come the next morning to make us breakfast. The two discussed things going on at the Hob, the latest news from the Capitol, and other things that I tuned out. All I could think of was how I never even saw the change in Tax. How I was so blind about it. The rubbing alcohol, the earring, when he yelled at me, everything was a sign.

"I'm so excited. Its such a great time because we get to dress up in our best clothes, and have a day of no fears. Just dancing, eating, more dancing, and for the adults, as much alcohol as one can consume." Sae cheered.

"What is a great time?" I asked.

"The Teresina Festival. It is truly a remarkable event." Ivy smiled.

"What exactly do you have to wear?"

"What ever is the nicest thing in your closet. The Seam people sometimes rent a suit from the Tailor, or just wear their reaping clothes. The merchants wear whatever is the dressiest thing in their closet. For me, I'm going to wear this gown Katniss gave to me, it has-" Sae rambled on and on about the dress, and Ivy was smiling from ear to ear. Later in the day, I began to notice everyone was so happy and excited for tomorrow. The shops were the busiest they have ever been.

Ivy and I entered the bakery, and I caught a strong whiff of dough. We rounded the corner, that lead us to the back of the bakery, and Peeta and some of his staff were in havoc with all of the pastries, in and out of ovens, yelling at each other, mixing bowls spiraling like crazy, flour poured out everywhere.

"Hi dad!" Ivy said and Peeta turned around, giving his daughter a kiss on the cheek, leaving Ivy's cheek with flour.

"Hey sweetheart. Hi Holland!" He waves, then sucks himself back into the rush of work. The bakery was hot, so I shed off my winter hat and coat. Ivy takes me upstairs, leading me to the house part of the bakery.

"Where's your mom?" I asked, as we walked down a narrow hallway, and Ivy lead me into one room, her bedroom.

"Probably hunting, or getting some things for tomorrow. She's the one organizing everything." I nodded. Ivy's room was a light purple, like a lavender. I sat on her bed, and almost sunk down into it. She noticed and laughed. "Sorry, I forgot to mention it's hard for me to sleep sometimes so my parents got me one of those memory foam beds to help. It really does."

"I can tell." I grin as I lay back onto it, the bed shifting so it can fit me into it. Ivy aborts to her closet, as she rummages through it. As I close my eyes, and lay comfortably on her bed, she throws a pile of clothes onto my stomach.

"Okay, since you are one of the main guests at this event, you will dress like one. So get to it!" I glance down at a pile of awfully bright dresses on me. It looked like Hilly Weldon just threw up on me. I shrug them to the side and sit up.

"Don't you have something…I don't know…not colorful?" I asked someone what of sarcasm in my voice. Ivy raises a dark eyebrow at me, then points to the dresses.

"Those first. Please." I frown slightly, then tell Ivy to turn around as I start getting dressed. The first dress was just horrible. It was a turquoise, a color I have grown to hate now, it had to many ruffles, that stopped at my knees, it was too sparkly, and a bright pink sash was wrapped around the waist.

"Oh that's so-" Ivy cheers warmly but I cut her off.

"No." I say in utter disgust. She rolls her eyes and turns around as I get the next dress on. It's a gray color, fits my body, but the sides are triangles, and it makes me look unsymmetrical and odd. So Ivy just see's the hatred on my face and turns back around.

I go through three more dresses, too colorful, to old fashion, to…just to Capitol. Ivy looks into her closet then shakes her head. "I don't have anything more." I slump back onto her bed. I don't have my reaping dress anymore, I don't have any dresses actually.

"Wait!" Ivy exclaims, and I straighten up, watching as she rushes out of the room, and enters another. I can hear furious rummaging then an excited squeal. She runs back into the room and throws the dress at me, then she turns around smiling wickedly.

I slip it on, she zips the back, the dress fitting snug against my frame. When I gaze into the mirror I'm shocked. It's beautiful, the under layer a peach color, then a lace lining over that, then even over that was a flowy net covering. It was just beautiful, and I kept twirling in it, dancing around lifting the dress slightly so I don't trip on it. Ivy joins me, as we do the District 12 ritual dance. We both laugh twirling each other around and around.

When were done I can hear soft clapping. We both turn to face Haymitch. "Look at you cupcake, all dressed up for tomorrow. Well, I think its safe to say you wont look like a disaster there." I roll my eyes at him, but bite my lower lip from my uncontrollable smile. He grins as well. "Where's the boy?" He asks Ivy.

"Gone." She shrugs, her happy mood killed.

"Again." He asks, angry. Ivy and I both nod. I contemplated on telling Haymitch about the whole Tax thing, and Ivy gave me a glance of 'go ahead, we need him'. He turns to walk out the door but I call him name. The old man turns to face us once more.

"He remembers." I say with a grin, and he looks confused.

* * *

"So," Tax glances down at the girl by his side, the two leaving the woods, "what are you going to say at the Festival?" She smiles, staring deeply into his gray eyes.

"I don't know. Probably say some things about the games, about the win, yada yada, maybe…" He trails raising a blonde eyebrow at her, and gives her a smirk, "mention you in there." She laughs, and he bends down kissing her neck. She lightly pushes him off.

"Tax come on. Not here." He stops in front of her, wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her close to him, the warmth of her body radiating with his. He kisses her jaw, then trails down her neck. She tries to push him, but gives in to the lips moving passionately on her neck. He starts to move back up to her lips, but he just teases her, only kissing her cheek.

When he pulls away, she's avoiding eye contact, looking frustrated. "What?" He asks, the smile slowly fading from his lips.

"I just don't like how we are all touchy, holding hands, kissing, but we're not…" She trails then shapes her red hair.

"What? A couple? Come on, Emme, don't be like this." She stays silent, then he groans. "Fine, whatever." Then he turns around and leaves the girl in her tracks as he heads back home. Girls give him a headache, all he wants is to have a little fun while he's still young, not some girl trying to make him all theirs. He wishes couples, and marriage just was just a fairy tale.

His boots stomp on the ground, and he sighs, running a hand through his blonde curls.

He wishes he could have a girl like…like Holland. She was all he could dream about. How they kiss, and how he feels himself drawn to her, but she never tries to cling to him, to make sure he's hers.

Oh what is he saying, they're just dreams, it isn't true. She's just that cruel girl from the funeral. Yet she's also quiet and complex. What is she really?

"A stranger." He whispers to himself as he see's the town coming into his view. He decides to go and get some flowers knowing that he'll give them to Emme tomorrow and apologize for what he did. He enters the shop, greets Hope, gets a bouquet of a variety of flowers.

"Who are those for?" The blonde asks with a grin. She was a good girl, but weird as well.

"Someone special." He replies with a blank expression so she doesn't keep the conversation going. Hope bites the inside of her cheek and nods. Tax turns away and heads out the door. He rolls his eyes as he moves swiftly to his house.

He spots his dad going insane with baking, his staff running around like chickens with their heads cut off. Take shakes his head, grabs a small vase fills it with water and puts the bouquet on the front desk. Then he climbs up the stairs to his room so he can shut himself up in his room and out of the world so he can focus.

He enters the room, goes to his desk, and notices his sketch book is missing. He panics running into the bathroom, discovering it isn't there. Ivy.

He storms to his sister's room, but stops shy of the door hearing her laughing, talking to someone else. He presses his ear to the door. Eavesdropping. "You're gonna kill it tomorrow, I just know it. Besides, you don't have to speak if you don't want to." She's probably talking to her mom. Katniss stressing out about the festival is normal for her. She does every year. It's one of the most horrible time of the year for the family. Peeta provides the delectable treats, Katniss organizes it, and Tax use to sing. Until he decided not to do it when he was thirteen. He just felt awkward when he's up at the microphone. But every year the citizens in District 12 try to cheer him up to the stage.

Ivy just dresses up and since she's eighteen, now she can drink till she cant remember what happened the next day. As he turns away from the door, heading down stairs to check for his pad, he hears it.

"Well, I do want to speak, but I just can't, because of Tax." He hears the other voice say. His ear was already back up against the door. Why because of Tax? What did he do now?

"Tonight. We'll do it tonight." Ivy says, and Tax knew he had to get out of the house so whoever it is cant tell him whatever it is.

"I'm scared." The other voice says softly.

Holland?

He knocks on the door, and the two grow quiet. "What?" Ivy calls out.

Tax opens the door slightly. His gray eyes shift from his sister, and when he lays them on Holland, he's dumbstruck. She's wearing a beautiful black dress, her hair still down in it's curls. Her cheeks grow red, and she gazes down at her lap, embarrassed. He lost his wording at the sight of her.

"What?" Ivy asks again, gaining back his attention. Holland's head rises, her brown eyes searching his face.

"My notepad- I mean sketch pad, where is it?" Ivy quickly glances at Holland, then looks back at her younger brother. The two girls just stare at him.

"Tax." His eyes move to Holland once again. She looks nervous, her hands shaking in her lap, her breathing quickening. She looked so breath taking, when does she not? "I can explain."

"Explain what?" He asks, a bit harsher than he intended, but if that sketchpad landed into her hands, he was doomed.

"The dreams." The words he didn't want to hear come out. And her mouth is open, about to speak the next sentence, but she never gets the chance to because he slams the door shut, and leaves the bakery, moving to Victor's Village. If he was going to hear what he doesn't want to hear, it was going to come out of the most believable mouth.

"Haymitch!" He yells. The old man stops the bottle from his lips, and turns to face the young man. "Tell me now!" He says, not meeting his gaze, his voice becomes cracked, and he can't seem to control himself.

"She said it already, why do you-"

"Is it true? Are they true?" Tax asks firmly.

Haymitch sighs, and waves for his 'grandson' to come over. The boy sits next to the stinky man, and Haymitch stands up to turn on the television. "I knew you were going to come. So just watch."

And he did. All three hours of the Rebel Games. The real Rebel Games, not the lies the Capitol fed him. And it all played out in his head, he knew what everything was going to happen, from the chariots to the arena. But it was weird to watch Holland in there, fighting. Her with the careers, her with her allies, and her at the final battle, when she holds dead Tax in her hands, crying.

The screen goes black, and he turns to the boy. But Tax's skin was pale, his gray eyes dark, his pupils dilated. "Boy?" He shakes him a little, and Tax limply moves in the direction of the shake. Haymitch's hand checks the pulse on Tax's wrist.

Nothing.

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**And just when you thought things were going so well! ): Poor Tax.**

**Well Review, Like, Follow! (:**


	6. IMPORTANT MESSAGE! PLEASE READ!

**Hey guys, I'm back after a long time. I'm so sorry for not updating like I should have been, but I began to think a lot about this story, and in all honesty, I feel I went the wrong way with the sequel, so I've decided to ask the readers for their opinion. **

**I want to know who still wants this story to continue or if they think I should change it. **

**A poll will be held on my profile, so fire away with voting!**

**Also, please, this is not a suggestion, but more of a pleading demand to give me ideas on what I should do. I would love to get a few ideas swirling in my mind, because as of right now, I'm drawing a horrible writers block. **

**I love you all, and thank you for understanding(if you do),**

**~Whitney. **


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